


golden bow

by gloxinie



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, M/M, and remember to not be this stupid about your feelings, basically just 10k of gift giving and being messes, donghun makes bad decisions, jason is a sass master, junhee is broke, namedrops of other idols, rated for mild swearing, remember to dress warmly in winter folks!!, sehyoon just wants to make music in peace, yuchan protec and atac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloxinie/pseuds/gloxinie
Summary: He’s not going to create an epic gift scavenger hunt so he can confess his feelings to Donghun. Well, he is doing a gift scavenger hunt of sorts, but he’s not going to confess. Because there’s not any feelings to confess in general, and especially not to Donghun.No matter what the niggling feeling tells him.





	1. golden boy

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm glox and this is my first fic contribution to the fandom and it's also the first time i've written over 2.5k for a single finished thing in... seven years? if this is actually hot garbage please complain @ the cactus club discord
> 
> split in two parts for the maximum amount of 'oh god what are you doing please just talk to him like a real person' :^)

Junhee stares down at the little card in his hands like it’s about to explode and blow all his fingers off. Which it might, you never know. Spontaneous combustion happens to the best of us. Who knows if his entire stupidity in preparing all of this will actually end up in collateral damages and deaths? Exactly: nobody, that’s who.

 

“What I do know is you’re being stupid,” Byeongkwan tells him flat-out and plucks the thing out of his hands so he won’t accidentally crush it while fidgeting. Junhee pouts. “No, really, why are you stressing so much about this? You know the guy and you know what he likes. You’re… friends, after all.” The air quotes that aren’t there but are kind of there in spirit aren’t very appreciated. “Just give him your present and watch him enjoy it, god.”

“But what if it’s a weird present for a friend to give?” He has to really pay attention to not start tugging at his own hair again, it’s a bad habit when he spends hours per day in the bathroom to make sure he looks just perfect. “What if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore because I offended him? Is that a thing, can you offend someone with coffee?”

 

Byeongkwan pinches the bridge of his nose. Junhee feels like he should be more upset about that than he is currently.

 

“If you’re really just friends, then why are you worrying so much?”

 

Junhee clamps his mouth shut so fast he swears even Byeongkwan can hear his teeth click together.

 

*

 

It’s not really like what everyone is thinking.

 

He’s not going to create an epic gift scavenger hunt so he can confess his feelings to Donghun. Well, he is doing a gift scavenger hunt of sorts, but he’s not going to confess. Because there’s not any feelings to confess in general, and especially not to Donghun, something that his friends just don’t want to seem to accept. He’s doing this only because he drew Donghun’s name in their annual group Secret Santa exchange, and well, they’re also friends. Good friends. And maybe he wants to just do his friend some good without any ulterior motives required.

 

Sehyoon quirks an eyebrow at him when he sees how proud Junhee is, watching Donghun read the card he found in his backpack with a smile and then excusing himself to go run to the coffee shop just across campus.

“You’re sure?”, is all he asks, because Sehyoon has this frightening ability to look at you and just know what you’re worrying about. Donghun has that too, honestly, but him you can distract by telling him about whatever AKMU have been doing with their careers that day. Sehyoon? He’s like a loving, really dorky bloodhound about these things, and where he’s enacting his judgement, Byeongkwan isn’t far behind.

 

Yuchan flops over the table dramatically and groans. “Guys, you’re not supposed to know who everyone's Santas are, it ruins the  _ surprise _ ,” he whines, bottom lip stuck out in one of his signature baby pouts. Byeongkwan pats him on the head.

“Don’t worry about it - we just know Junhee has Donghun. It’s kinda obvious, he’s the only one who would put in this much effort for him.”

 

Junhee throws a carrot stick at him.

 

*

 

When Donghun comes back, he does so with a cup of coffee, a little paper bag, and a smile.

 

“Whoever one of you is gifting me things, you’re adorable,” he declares, then sits down to pack out his treat - one of the cherry brownies that Taeyong makes specially on Fridays. He calls them cherry bombs, and everyone goes along with it because he’s cute and they taste good enough. Donghun loves them, he’d declared his feelings for Taeyong’s baking a few months ago when he’d first gotten to taste the marbled blueberry muffins he tried out for Johnny’s birthday, so it seemed like a logical present to give.

Junhee tries really hard to not check if anyone is looking at him and instead stabs his celery in his yogurt cup.

“This card is really cryptic, though,” Donghun says, waving around the tiny piece of semi-expensive cardstock with the message on it, the little decorative golden bow glittering in the artificial light of the cafeteria. “Your first gift awaits where liquid life is given,” he reads out loud, with his best dramatic intonation, and Junhee swears Yuchan is judging him. Yuchan. The boy who never judges anybody. “I mean, I could have also gone to the blood bank? Or the hospital? Or the pharmacy, maybe. Coffee isn’t really what I’d call liquid life, it’s a little out there…”, he muses, then looks up to see everyone at the table fully fixated on their food. “Oh, but it’s cute, it’s really charming,” he hastens to add. Junhee has to control himself to not show any sign of relief.

 

*

 

Yuchan finds him loitering around the coffee shop on a Monday evening, when his pastry plate is picked clean and his cup only has left the last, cooling dregs of what used to be his signature Strawberry Shortcake Latte with extra caramel. He should’ve left an hour ago but the box in front of him is taunting him, and he can’t just leave before he figures out what to do with it.

 

“Hey, what’s up?” Their youngest slides into the seat opposite his, grip secure around his own cup of awfully bitter Americano, and gives him a grin. “What are you still doing here?”

 

“Important decisions,” Junhee grunts. Yuchan grabs the box and gives it a little shake.

 

“Is that your second gift?”, he asks, exes fixed on the tiny bow stuck to the upper corner. It’s like he wants to spontaneously develop x-ray sight to figure out what it might be.

 

“Yeah,” Junhee admits with a sigh.

 

“What’s in it?” Junhee wonders why all his friends are so nosy.

 

“Nothing, really,” he says and snatches it back. “It’s just a bunch of green tea blend. It’s supposed to be great for the throat, so.” He shrugs.

 

Yuchan hums. “Is Donghun having issues with his throat? I didn’t notice.” The look he gives Junhee is measured and more searching than he’s used to.

 

“Well, he cleared his throat a lot a week ago, and it is December, so better safe than sorry I guess? That way maybe he won’t worry so much about his presentation either.” He shrugs, smooths a thumb over the cream-coloured wrapping, and tucks it away from the sight of Yuchan’s prying eyes. “And before you ask, no, it’s not that expensive, it’s fine.”

 

“Sure,” Yuchan says, and nods solemnly. “Of course. Are you going to write something cheesy for him to find it again?”

 

Junhee just leans in to cuff him over the head.

 

*

 

For all it’s worth (which isn’t much), Junhee is just being a good friend. They’ve known each other since they started attending university, both stuck in a horribly boring vocal theory lecture even though they’re in different majors. It had only taken them two sessions and a spilled drink to become close and it’s already been a little over two years at this point, so Junhee would like to think that they get along well. Maybe Donghun is even his best friend, but thinking those words always feels like he’s back in elementary school and trying to win Hansol’s friendship, so he should probably avoid phrasing it this specific way. In any case, they get along, and Junhee likes to do things for people he gets along with. That is all.

 

And if he doesn’t go off buying new custom cufflinks for just all of his friends, well, it really doesn’t have to be anybody’s business but his.

 

*

 

The day Donghun shows up with a bunch of wrapping paper torn around a skateboard that looks just like the one he’d broken that year and a teary-eyed look on his face is the day that Sehyoon takes him to the side again.

 

“Junhee,” he says, legs thrown over Junhee’s pillows, “you can tell us anything, you know? Nobody’s going to judge you.”

 

“Judge me for what,” Junhee deadpans, clicking idly through a ticketing website. He’s not really sure what he’s looking for yet, or if he’s even looking for something in the first place, but he’ll know it when he sees it. His roommate is out for now, so their shared dorm room is quiet save for the quiet sounds of the campus radio in the background. Sehyoon levels him with a look.

 

“For your giant crush.”

 

Well. Junhee is glad he wasn’t drinking. He still almost coughs a lung out, bending over his laptop with tears in his eyes as Sehyoon half-heartedly thumps him on the back.

 

Of course he knows that’s what all his friends are thinking. He’s not dumb, he sees the grins when Donghun hugs him and hears the whispering when Junhee slides him his last bit of rice. They try to talk to him about it too, to wheedle it out of him, but nobody’s ever said it quite so bluntly before.

 

“The fuck, dude?”

 

“I’m just - sorry, you okay? - I’m just saying, listen, we’ve all been dancing around it and that’s fine, I guess, but I’m just worried. You’ve been spending an awful lot of money on all this.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Junhee declares, and directs his attention back to the Adele tickets on sale right now. Maybe, if he budgets and eats a little more ramen instead of vegetables…

 

“Junhee, you bought him a new skateboard.”

 

“And?” Maybe some stand-up comedy instead? No, it’s gotta be a concert, most likely. Donghun wants to do music for a living, after all, and it would be dumb to not gift him something related to that at least once. Help him see the world beyond Caruso and Pavarotti.

 

“You drove six hours to a specialty store just to buy it, Jun.”

 

“Because I didn’t want to buy crap and have to return it later,” Junhee points out, fairly, as he thinks. It makes sense, it’s always best to actually get someone qualified to help you out before you spend heaps on money on a thing you have no actual idea about. A little bit of extra time spent is no big deal, anyway.

 

Sehyoon only sighs and reaches over to pat one of his hands.

“Just take care of yourself, alright?”

 

*

 

Junhee ends up getting the Adele tickets after all, because Donghun is a singer, and he doesn’t listen to enough music that isn’t opera, and he might probably like her, or at least that’s what he hopes. He gets an envelope, writes Donghun’s name on it as neatly as possible so he won’t suspect him on grounds of his chicken scratch letters, and slips the two slips of paper inside. The envelope worms its way in between the pages of Donghun’s current book while the latter is busy talking to another of his friends at lunch, complete with a little note and all. He hopes he finds it soon.

 

Evening finds him hanging out in his own room again, flipping through his notes on theatre theory and old greek performances. It’s not like he doesn’t have anywhere else to go to, but some days it’s just nice to stay home and actually study for a change. It’s definitely not anything to do with the tickets.

 

Well, maybe.

 

There’s a knock on his door about an hour after he’s settled in, and with a groan that reminds him why his friends call him a grandpa, he gets up to check who it is. In front of the door stands Donghun, small smile on his face and backpack in his hands.

 

“You busy?”, he asks. Junhee hazards a glance backwards at his textbooks, open and waiting, and practically feels his grades drop.

 

“Nah, I’m free. Come in?”

 

*

 

They study in silence for a while before Donghun picks up his book and the envelope flutters down on the mattress in front of him. He just looks at it for a while before he picks it up to inspect it.

 

“Oh,” he says, “well, the note did say I’d find the present in Mordor. I thought it was a polite way to tell me to not expect anything.”

 

Junhee tries to smile, but for some reason he feels anxious. It’s not like it makes any sense, he already knows what the present is, and he’s fairly sure he’ll like it, so he should just relax. But still, nerves tingle across his fingertips. He clears his throat.

 

Donghun opens the envelope and pulls out the tickets. “Two?”, he mutters quietly, then fishes around for a note, in the same cardstock that his scavenge hunting notes are written on. “This is your secret… umm... tickets... for a concert. There’s two so you can take someone you’d like along. It’d make a cute date probably. Or you can become a scalper and make money, if that’s more your thing,” he reads aloud. Junhee looks down at the fingers he’s been pinching so hard that they’ve turned white. Right. Maybe that’s why he’s so nervous.

 

“A date, huh,” Donghun muses to himself. Junhee is about to say something, to suggest that maybe the Secret Santa meant date as in friendly outing, when Donghun clears his throat and looks right at him.

 

“So, do you like Adele?”

 

Junhee blanks. 

 

Donghun shuffles around on the bed. “As in… you know. A friend-date. Just because I feel like you’d enjoy yourself. Uh. Ignore me.” He clears his throat again. Junhee fears the tea might not be working well.

 

“Sure,” he says, and adamantly ignores the niggling feeling that rose up just under his heart after Donghun’s clarification. Of course it’s platonic. He wouldn’t want it to be anything else.

 

*

 

“-and here is the newest hit single from Day6. Rayoon and I are going to go take a nap and when we’re back, we’ll take a look at where you folks stand on the socks with or without toes discourse!”, Yuchan chirps cheerily from the tiny box radio Junhee had stolen from his eldest sister when she’d moved out with her fiancé. He’s relieved by an energetic beat, one of the singers shouting something about dancing, dancing, but Junhee really does not feel like dancing at all.

 

Should he wear toe socks? 

 

No, that’s dumb. 

 

Is it?

 

‘ _ should i wear toe socks to an adele concert this is an emergency pls respond immediately _ ,’ he texts to Daniel. He waits. Changes his shirt two more times. He’s slowly running out of clothes to wear.

 

‘ _ uh is it a date _ ’, his message preview bubble questions.

 

‘ _ no i’m going with a friend i’ve just never been to a pop concert?? _ ’ Why does everyone ask if it’s a date first? Can’t he just enjoy some music with a good friend? Nevermind that he was the one who’d intended on Donghun bringing a date in the first place.

 

‘ _ idk man then just wear something simple n bring yrself? mayb wear some cologne so u dont stink after _ ’, Daniel supplies semi-helpfully. Simple clothes. Simple? He doesn’t own any simple clothes, he’s a musical theatre major for fuck’s sake, Daniel should know this. He’s seen Seungkwan on campus and that guy is basically the physical manifestation of the concept of a musical theatre person.

 

Simple. Simple. Junhee sighs and goes on his knees to root through the bottom of his closet.

 

In the end, he winds up with something he thinks is acceptably simple enough to work, and even finds his favourite cologne to wear, but at that point he’s too late to do his hair so he just jams a cap over his hair and rushes out. He shouldn’t keep Donghun waiting, so he resists to check if any bits of hair stick out from under the cap weirdly and just powerwalks.

 

*

 

He should have worn the toe socks. Maybe they’d have prevented his toes from fucking freezing off in his tragically unpadded imitation-leather combat boots. Junhee shoves both his hands deeper in the pockets of his equally unpadded, equally imitation-leather jacket and suppresses a shiver. Next to him, Donghun looks fully at peace in a full-length winter jacket and boots that have a little bit of fur sticking out.

 

“Not prepared for a queue?”, he asks him, fiddling with the end of his scarf. A puff of his breath forms in front of him and almost fogs up Junhee’s glasses. Why’d he have to forget contact lenses today of all days? Not that his glasses are awful or anything, he’s made his peace with them, but it’s still weird to showcase just how blind he is on a - a not-date. A friendly outing, that he’s just happened to wear his most expensive cologne on. It happens.

 

“All I go to are indie concerts and the dance crew stuff, there’s not exactly an army of people waiting to get in,” he grumbles, sweeping his arm out to encompass the veritable sea of concert-goers freezing their asses off just like he is just for a chance to get marginally better seats. He’s pretty sure the ones in the front camped overnight just to be first, which… well, he admires the determination, but something about the idea of bringing camping supplies to a concert just doesn’t sit well with him. How’d they even go to the toilet?

 

Donghun looks at him for a good minute, takes in his shivering and chattering, then sighs and unloops the scarf from around his neck. Before Junhee can ask what’s up, he is confronted by a face full of surprisingly soft fabric and then, a second later, gets to see how Donghun steps closer just a little and wraps the scarf around his neck.

 

Something about Donghun taking care of him like this, tongue peeking out in concentration as he’s focusing on getting the thing to sit just right over his jacket, makes his lips tingle. The niggling feeling is back, in his ribcage and in his gut like the feeling you get just before the rollercoaster drops you to your screaming doom. For a second, just the littlest one, he wants to reach out to stop Donghun from stepping back, but instead, he curls his fingers into aching fists in his pockets and gives a smile and a thank you from a burning mouth.

 

“Come on, we’re moving,” Donghun tells him and steps forward. Junhee follows him, like he’s beginning to realise he always does.

 

*

 

Unsurprisingly, the concert hall is absolutely packed. There’s elbows and knees knocking into them from all directions, someone prods Donghun’s ear with a glow stick and Junhee’s feet feel cold as well as bruised now. He should probably be buying shoes with steel caps, if he hadn’t spent all his money on being here in the first place. Their spots are far enough away that Adele is just a vague outline against all the stage lights, and the display screens only help so much, but still Donghun seems to be enjoying himself, and that’s all that matters. Pressed against Junhee, arm against arm, he can’t help but notice all of his grins, the half-aborted movements like he’s trying to stop himself from moving along to the music dramatically like he usually does at home, the little noises at the back of his throat when he’s about to sing along but changes his mind. Junhee is close enough to notice them all, and none of this is new to him, he knows Donghun, he knows his quirks, and still… it’s different, somehow, seeing him all in the open like this.

Donghun turns to grin at him as one of her earlier songs comes to a close, all out of breath and flushed even though they have barely moved at all, even though they don’t even have the room to scratch their noses half the time. The lasers pointed into the crowd catch in his hair, make the ends of it glow silver and white, dot little stars in his eyes. He barely looks real in this light.

“I’m glad we got to come here together,” Donghun says, so quietly that the only reason why Junhee even understands is because he’s sort of able to read the movements of his lips.

 

His lips. Junhee wonders if they’re softer than his. He lets out a breath.

 

He understands, finally.

 

He watches Donghun turn back to the stage, cheering along with the gaggle of teenagers next to him as Adele gets ready to decimate her ex-lover with nothing but lyricism and her vocal chords, and he understands. The niggling feeling is back, more intense, screaming for his attention, and for the first time in his life, he listens to it.

 

It’s butterflies.

 

He likes Donghun. He wants to go on more concerts with him and buy him things he could probably easily afford himself and make him happy. He wants to dedicate every second on stage, every note he sings, every character he plays to him. All of it and everything else in between, because Donghun has given him so much, been so gentle to him like few had been before.

 

He maybe more than likes Donghun.

 

His fingers twitch again, but this time, he slings a hand around Donghun’s shoulders. His friend barely even notices beyond a quick glance and a smile, so absorbed is he in what’s happening around them. But that’s good, Junhee reasons. He doesn’t have to confront him with these thoughts just yet.

 

He’s just glad he knows, now.

 

*

 

“You good?”, Yuchan asks him one night, a few days later.

 

Junhee looks up from his textbook, fingers stilling where he’d been scratching his neck absentmindedly. “Yeah,” he says, “why? Do I look weird?”

 

“You always look weird,” Yuchan retorts, crooked grin blooming on his face, and Junhee really has to hold back from throwing himself to the ground dramatically to lament the state of the youth these days and how they can just go around disrespecting their seniors this way. It still has to show, because Yuchan reaches over to smooth out a crease between his eyebrows with his thumb. “Oh, don’t pout, what I mean is you keep rubbing your neck. Did you strain something?”

 

Junhee glances over at Rayoon, who’s busy scratching his - their, his and Yuchan’s - corgi behind the ears like a cat and scrolling through the radio station’s Twitter feed. They’d uploaded a selfie earlier, the late night hosts and their dog, and that always gets them a decent amount of traction, so he’s busy sifting through the song requests and answers to the night’s poll. (Today: the age-old debate of pineapple on pizza, which Junhee can’t believe is still going on. Maybe he’s just a discourse elder, though.)

“Nothing,” he says, “well, I didn’t really strain something. But I was thinking, and-”

 

“Sounds to me like you strained plenty.”

 

“Shut up Yuchan, you’re like five - anyway, what I was  _ saying _ is that I’ve been having some thoughts, about, uh. About Donghun, mainly, and...” He trails off, suddenly unsure. Rayoon’s scrolling is suspiciously slower now, and even the dog’s ears seem a little bit more perked up than usual. Yuchan leans forward and grabs Junhee’s knee, a glint in his eyes that could be determined as much as it could be ominous. Somehow he’s too deep in his feelings to tell effectively.

 

“And what about him? Is it your feelin- please tell me it’s your feelings. Or his. I’ll take either, just, please?”

 

“His feelings?” Yuchan shrinks a little but doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything, so he lets it go. “But anyway, uh, yeah. My feelings is right. Those are… happening, I guess? More than usual. I-”

 

“You mean you like him?”

 

“I… essentially, yes,” Junhee concedes with a sigh. Maybe it’s too early to bring up the concept of proper romantic love yet. They haven’t even dated yet, it feels way too rushed to think about it now, and what if it actually is just a less intense form of feelings? But if it is, Junhee doesn’t want to imagine how he’ll feel once he does fall in love with Donghun.

 

Yuchan lets out a sharp cheer, stops, and immediately hunches into himself, hand over his mouth, eyes searching for Rayoon, who gives them a shrugs and mouths ‘not live yet’. The way Yuchan goes from apologetic back to actual sunshine will never fail to give Junhee the worst kind of whiplash.

“So you told him?”, he asks in an urgent whisper, grip on Junhee’s knee tightening. He laments for his poor bones and hopes he won’t get his leg actually snapped off from the iron grip he’s caught in.

 

“No, uh, not directly. We just - you know the Adele concert? I just looked at him and… well, I got it. But I haven’t talked to him about it yet, it felt kinda rushed.” He’s not lying; when they’d gotten out of the bus back to campus, Donghun insisting on accompanying him at least this far even though he himself lives in the middle of the city, Junhee had contemplated just telling him - out with it, what’s the worst that could happen? But there was a lump in his throat made up of his heart and the suspicion that he might be wrong about this, that it might have just been the concert atmosphere or the adrenaline, and of the sparkle in Donghun’s eyes that hadn’t quite left ever since the concert hall had gone dark for the final time and they’d gotten caught up in the people filing out to catch fresh air. So all he did was unspool the scarf and pressed it back into Donghun’s waiting hands, told him to stay warm, and turned to enter his apartment building. If Donghun gave any sign then for him to wait, he hadn’t seen it.

 

Yuchan clicks his tongue at him. “What you’re doing is the exact opposite of rushed, I assure you, but fine, I get it. It happened anyway, so whatever, but what are you gonna do about it now?”

And if that isn’t a question. What is he going to do? Should he confess? Does he even want to, or should he keep it to himself? Frankly, Junhee had only ever had fleeting crushes on people he’d barely known then, so these decisions had come easy to him then: Just go with his impulse and worry about it later. There hadn’t been much to lose either way.

 

Before he has time to form a proper answer, Rayoon interrupts them. “Time’s almost up, get your headset,” he tells Yuchan, and then, quieter: “You should make up your mind soon.”

 

Junhee figures that one was meant for him.

 

*

 

Sehyoon has a habit of locking himself overnight in one of the music studios supplied by their university whenever deadlines are due, and sometimes when there aren’t any.

 

Byeongkwan has a habit of locking himself in alongside him to make sure he doesn’t actually starve to death when he goes on a working spree.

 

Junhee knows both of these things, which is why he’s standing in front of studio four at too far past midnight bearing drinks and chicken. Byeongkwan knows that Junhee has a habit of going to bed around ten with a hot water bottle, an eye mask and the dulcet sounds of the whales spared by Captain Ahab on his mad journey, which is why he’s staring like Junhee had spontaneously grown three additional heads.

 

“Uh. I- hi?”, Byeongkwan asks, clearly wondering if he should’ve taken a nap.

 

“I got you guys food,” Junhee says, which, together with the smell of calories fried in calories, is apparently enough for Byeongkwan to trust that he isn’t an axe murderer wearing their friend’s skin for now, and let him in.

  
  


After they both coaxed Sehyoon to take a break for a change with the promise of the tastiest bits of the chicken reserved especially for him, both Sehyoon and Byeongkwan turn to look at him in synchronicity that would be downright terrifying if it didn’t come from lifelong friends, in which case it’s just mildly offputting.

 

“So, what do you want?” Byeongkwan asks him, rubbing his fingers clean on a tissue. Junhee shrugs.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says, as stand-offishly as possible, which isn’t very much at all.

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need anything,” Sehyoon points out, voice lower than usual from lack of sleep. Byeongkwan nods next to him. Junhee sighs. He really isn’t good at hiding things, he supposes.

“I want you to help write a song for me,” he says instead. “Not - not for me exactly, more with me. I mean, I have lyrics, but I can’t really produce, and I’d probably need a rap break too, or some background vocals - I’ll ask Yuchan about that too, actually - but, you know. Uh. I have a discount for Ken’s dad’s chicken place?” Junhee is aware he might sound a little uncertain, a little pleading, but that’s because he is. He honestly has no idea what he’s doing right now. All he knows is that this is something that he has to do.

 

Sehyoon hums.

“Why don’t you ask Donghun to help with vocals? None of us are actually trained singers, even though I guess we can all carry a tune..”

“About that,” Junhee begins haltingly, and as soon as he does, he sees both of them break out in the widest grins he’d seen from either of them ever since their own annual friend-anniversary celebration.

“Don’t worry, we got you,” Byeongkwan says, and thumps him on the shoulder. “We’ll kick this song’s ass!”

“Please don’t do that,” Junhee whines, but Sehyoon already has his headphones on already, hand gesturing for Junhee’s draft of his first ideas, and he figures he just has to go with it for now and hope the song turns out well.

 

*

 

The song turns out amazing.

 

Even Sehyoon, notorious for being critical of everything he even breathes on, seems satisfied when he leans back in his chair, the last remnants of Junhee’s voice dissipating into the air. It had taken them maybe five days, which is fast for any producer and a damn near Christmas miracle for a producer that has actual other deadlines and projects coordinating with three singers who also all have other deadlines and projects of their own. But it’s there, it’s done. It’s final now.

 

Junhee slams his forehead on the table.

 

“Junhee?”, Byeongkwan asks. “I thought you liked it?”

 

“I  _ love _ it,” Junhee groans.

 

“Then why are you trying to smash your own head in?”

 

“I just…” Junhee sighs and rubs at his forehead. It’s going to be kinda red later. “I just. I don’t know. It feels so final, now. This is actually happening. I can’t go b- fuck, I can’t go back on this.” There’s a bubbling in his throat, the feeling of drinking too much soda and committing to something he’s not fully sure about. It doesn’t do much to calm him.

 

“What d’you mean?”, Sehyoon asks, wheeling his chair closer to hook his chin over Junhee’s shoulder. “You can absolutely back down. I mean, you shouldn’t, but you can, we wouldn’t judge you for it,” he tells him solemnly. His breath smells a little of pickled cucumbers. They don’t even have any of those in the studio.

 

“But the song is done,” Junhee points out, a whine carrying in his voice, “and I already asked the theatre guys to help out, and… it’s just too much work that would become useless. I just… I don’t know,” he sighs, and Byeongkwan hooks his chin over his other shoulder.

 

“You’ll be good. The song is good. Just don’t overthink it and make it happen, alright?”

 

Junhee nods weakly. He hopes to any and all powers out there that it will really be this simple.

 

*

 

Frankly, that Yuchan and Rayoon are even required to work on Christmas Eve is a right tragedy in the books of any workers union. It’s not like either of them mind, they live close by and usually just spend their holidays together anyway, but it’s still something that rubs Junhee entirely the wrong way. Something about being stuck in a radio booth while it’s snowing outside and people are stacking presents under their trees, trying to figure out if their parents had gotten them socks again… he just hopes it’s cozy and well heated at the very least.

Today, though, he couldn’t be any more thankful for them doing what they do best.

 

“And now for a world premiere, right here in our humble station,” Rayoon drawls, voice given a tinny quality through Junhee’s admittedly shitty earphones. It’s not like he has to listen to the song again - he’s heard it too many times to count, and at this point he’s actually a little sick of his own voice. He just needs to know what they’re saying.

 

“A friend of ours, Park Junhee, has something very special to say to an equally very special someone,” Yuchan says, and Junhee can practically sense the finger guns he’s shooting at the microphone right now. “And to do that, he really had to be the most extra, so strap yourself in, mystery lover person, and enjoy your song! Stay tuned for a message for you afterwards!” And with that, with just a click of a button, Rayoon’s and Yuchan’s voices are gone and he hears the guitar chords that have burrowed their way into every aspect of his existence.

 

He waits.

 

In all honesty, he would probably listen to the song in his free time if he hadn’t attached, oh, just his entire heart to it. It’s the kind of pop ballad that isn’t really a ballad and has to include a soft lovey rap to make sure nobody gets bored and changes the station in the middle, but it’s nice, all in all. Donghun’s voice would have sounded great in it, if they’d only had the option of having him sing on the track without suspecting anything.

 

Three minutes have never felt this long and this short all at the same time. But in the end, the last strum of guitar strings fades away, and Yuchan is back. 

“And we have a note for our lucky recipient! Junhee wants you to meet him at the old man statue in the campus courtyard as soon as you’re able! So fly like the wind, Secret Santa! We’ll be right back after Jeon Soyeon’s latest hit, hopefully with some good news.”

 

Junhee pulls his earbuds out. It’s cold, he observes idly, and shoves his hands in between his thighs. It’s empty, and the ground is free of trash like it had never been before, thanks to his entire performing arts year. It’s almost like they were his stage hands, clearing the trash and setting up a padded bench under the university’s founder’s likeness and even plopping a bow on the statue’s head, golden in a tongue-in-cheek humour that could only have been Wonwoo, now that he thinks about it. There’s a box of chocolates to the right of him, waiting just as anxiously as him with a little dusting of snow covering the writing on top like it covers all of the courtyard, illuminated only by the lamps around the statue, which someone had managed to set to purple, and the stars shining down on him.

 

He has this whole speech prepared, about how the statue isn’t his final gift but about he could be, or his heart could be, maybe, if Donghun would have him, something about the depth of his newfound feelings and explaining the song’s lyrics to him under the glow of the moon. It’s possibly a little dramatic, but it might be nice, who knows. He hopes Donghun will like it.

 

He waits. The stars blink in silent commiseration as his toes, for the second time in a month, feel like they’re about to fall off. He draws his arms around his middle and waits.

 

When it’s midnight, and one, and two after that, his hat pulled so far over his face that it covers his eyebrows, Junhee decides he has to face it.

 

Donghun is not going to come.


	2. purple light

Being in love with your best friend is tricky.

 

It’s not exactly the way all romcoms depict it, with the pining and the crying and the wanting to get together as soon as possible. Sure, yeah. Donghun pines sometimes - a lot of times - but even things like feelings settle into a routine. You acknowledge what you feel, you keep moving on with your life. Sometimes you take an extra minute to enjoy the way your friend’s arm feels slung over your shoulders, or watch how he purses his lips when studying, or hug him just because you want to feel close to him, but at some point, life just goes on as usual. You hide it away, deny it when your friends tease you, and keep trying to be close with him to the best of your capabilities. There’s no real need to rock the boat when you can enjoy your feelings in silence.

 

That is, up until the Adele concert.

 

See, keeping the routine is easy if the one you love keeps it as well. Just do what you have always done and hope for the best. But when you get tickets to a concert , and think of who to ask to come with you, and the one you love is so weirdly quiet and nervous when he would usually throw out suggestions left and right, so you ask him to come with you, and later he looks at you with what feels like all the love in the world held in one place when he gives you back your scarf, well, anyone would be confused about routine at that point.

 

So as sad as it sounds, he’s spending his Christmas Eve cooped up in his room, hot chocolate warming his hands, and staring at the ticket stubs he pocketed before Junhee could notice, pinned on his corkboard alongside Yuchan’s coupon for unlimited free hugs and a picture they’d all taken together, crammed in a photobooth in defiance of any and all rules of physics. It would be a cute addition to their friendship timeline, if he’d stop seeing it as a date all the time. 

 

He’s not really paying attention, so he startles when he hears Junhee’s name from the radio that Yuchan had practically blackmailed him into turning on for the evening. Yuchan is saying something - all Donghun really catches as he fumbles for the button to turn the volume up is something about him being extra and a dedication to someone maybe? Then a guitar kicks in and then Junhee’s voice and Donghun freezes, fingers still clutching the dial.

 

For all it’s worth, Donghun has not heard Junhee sing very much beyond his stage recitals. He always practices by himself, doesn’t like to sing if it’s not tied to a role, he’s never heard him even so much as hum. Maybe it’s him just being self-conscious, or maybe it’s because whenever they talk about music, Junhee without fail needles Donghun himself into talking about his own voice. So all the voices he knows of Junhee are only half him and half an act, a persona to put on for the world. 

 

Which is why this feels so much more intimate.

 

His first instinct is to blush, or cover his ears like parents do to their children when they hear naughty words, because this is just Junhee, nothing but him with a guitar and some mellow music and some background vocals, his emotion in the purest form it’s ever been in. This… this shouldn’t be on radio, Donghun thinks. Not like this. Songs like these are meant for the ears of the recipient only, in person, with the ability to watch Junhee sing, watch him flutter his eyelids and tip his head back as he smiles around a rhyme.

 

Whoever this is dedicated to-

 

Well, it isn’t him, at any rate.

 

Which is when he decides to face it:

 

Junhee is, most likely, in love with someone else.

 

Donghun sighs and turns off the radio.

 

Sure, he could be a supportive friend, listen to the song, and send him a message to cheer him on, but does Junhee really need it? The golden boy that achieves everything he sets his sights on? The one whose feelings have most likely been reciprocated from the start? And what’s that gonna do, he’s just going to bless a relationship he is against with every fibre of his being anyway, and that’d just be the least genuine thing he can think of. Not that Junhee deserves happiness, because he does, and with all his heart does Donghun hope that he picked out the right person - he just doesn’t have to pretend to be happy about it. Not right now. He’ll allow himself to wallow in the acid burning up his throat and the static in the back of his head, and when classes start again, he’ll be just as new.

Just… not today.

 

He knocks the radio to its side as gently as he can and buries his face in his pillow.

 

Maybe he’s enjoyed too much of the airy ticklish calm of his crush. Maybe holding it in too long sours it one way or another, turns it into the worst kind of poison clogging his throat and building up behind his eyes until he can’t take it anymore, screams himself hoarse just to escape how it hurts.

 

*

 

He’s gotten around ten messages at this point, from Sehyoon, Byeongkwan and Yuchan especially. No Junhee. Not like he expects anything anyway. He wonders what they want - are his feelings this obvious? - but at the same time, should he really check them? He’d rather wallow in his own handmade misery and deal with the world a little later.

 

His phone buzzes in his grip. ‘ _ Where are you _ ’, the preview bubble prompts him. Donghun is too tired to wonder when Yuchan located the Shift button on his phone keyboard, so all he does is pull up the message, ignore the entries before the most recent, key in a quick ‘ _ At home. _ ’ and then throw the thing to the ground and roll over to go to sleep.

 

He wonders if, right now, Junhee is somewhere warm, bundled up in his mystery person’s arms.

 

*

 

Luckily, Donghun doesn’t hear from Junhee at all over the holidays.

 

He has things to do anyway, he can’t be focusing on his temper tantrum about losing someone he never even had in the capacity he wanted to have him. At this point he should just be savouring his actual friendship with the guy and moving on to doing more important things. (Not that it does not sting still, because it does, but he’s become adept at shoving things aside by now.) So he dives back into preparations for university and adamantly does not text anyone until they stop texting him. As much as he’s trying, he’s not quite ready to explain himself to anyone yet.

Still, it stings a little bit to not get anything from Junhee. Maybe it’s a matter of pride to not text each other first and he really should just swallow his own but usually Junhee is a lot more chatty than this. Asks about his day, sends him pictures of cute dogs, asks him to bring takeout because he’s too busy learning lines. All the things that he misses right now.

 

But maybe it is for the best. Maybe he can ride out the ends and edges of the pain a little longer and face him happily, with no thoughts lurking where he can’t see.

 

*

 

Donghun doesn’t face Junhee happily.

 

In fact, he doesn’t face him at all. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Junhee had just disappeared - he’s not sitting where he usually sits in their one shared seminar, he’s not even at their usual cafeteria table. But come to think of it, nobody is but him. For some reason, all his friends have just… disappeared.

 

Which is dumb, of course. It’s not like the entire group would be able to drop out of their classes all at the same time. They’re somewhere, but Donghun is a little too tired to properly look, and anyway they’ll show up again, right? Maybe something awkward happened in the group chat that he isn’t aware of.

But then again, people have been giving him weird looks lately.

 

Donghun touches the side of his face when he sees Seyong glare at him from across the lecture hall, and brings the fingers back - no, still nothing on his face. The girl next to him crosses her ankles and refuses to even breathe in his direction, and he could swear someone’s muttering something about him. Is it his hair? Is he wearing something weird today? It’s not like he did anything wrong, right?

 

Maybe he should stop letting his friends avoid him and ask what happened.

 

*

 

The evening finds him standing in front of the entrance to radio recording room number one. He’d barely even gotten in - apparently even the radio staff don’t want to be near him - and now he’s stuck watching Rayoon and Yuchan half-moderate, half-flirt their way through their show program. They look happy from what he can tell of their backs, which is good at least. They deserve that.

 

When Yuchan leans back from his microphone and stretches his arms out over his head, Donghun takes that as a fair sign that they’re not currently live and sticks his head through the door. As expected, the two are talking quietly to each other, their puppy gnawing on a toy bone in the far corner of the studio. He clears his throat carefully and Yuchan’s head snaps around - right, he gets scared sometimes, he keeps forgetting he gets scared easily.

 

But instead of cursing Donghun out for scaring him, Yuchan goes still. Donghun blinks - is he frozen? He’s never seen the guy this quiet before.

 

“What are you doing here?” He’s so quiet Donghun has to actually strain and physically lean forward to hear him properly. Yuchan is twisting his fingers in his lap, looks at the wall just besides Donghun’s head with a downward twist to his lips. For some reason, Donghun feels like he shouldn’t be here.

 

“Can we talk?” he asks, and tries for a smile. Somehow, it makes Yuchan recede even more into himself, but he does give a curt nod and follows Donghun out into the hallway, beyond the soundproofing so Rayoon can do his thing without being disturbed.

 

“So,” Yuchan says as soon as the door clicks shut, “you wanted to talk.”

 

“Yes,” he confirms, and rubs his hands against his thighs to try and get rid of the nervous twitching. He’s trying to think of a way to phrase his question, to express himself properly, but he doesn’t even have to, because:

 

“It’s cool that you, you know, remember any of us exist,” Yuchan tells him, arms crossed across his chest, still not properly looking at him. Donghun would be relieved that he doesn’t have to lead with something to say if he wasn’t so weirded out at how… impersonal his friend sounds. How curt, even. “I mean, you did the damage, but at least you’re not frolicking in Austria or some shit with your European opera buddies. That’s cool.”

 

What European opera buddies? Donghun motions to speak, but somehow, Yuchan has impeccable timing today.

 

“See, it wouldn’t even have been an issue if you’d just told him. Or any of us. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself, but - but just dropping off the face of the earth like that? Do you know how worried he was?” An angry heat colours Yuchan’s words, now, and Donghun is so afraid to get burnt that he takes a step back. It doesn’t really help. “How worried we were? And the only thing you said was that you were at home, which - how fucking dismissive can you get? Do you even care? Have you ever cared? What are you playing at here, Donghun, because I really do not understand anymore.” Yuchan clicks his tongue. The heat is still there, bitter flames licking at Donghun’s wrists, but he finds he’s more confused than chastised.

 

“I don’t understand,” he says.

 

“What isn’t there to understand?”, Yuchan asks. His voice is so loud, so incredulous, that Donghun is concerned it’ll filter through the walls and into the radio station’s microphones.

“I-”, Donghun starts. In all honesty, he doesn’t even know what exactly he doesn’t understand. “What do you mean, telling him. Telling who what?”

 

Yuchan gapes.

 

“Are you serio- Donghun. What did you do on Christmas Eve?” At least he’s quieter now. “I told you to listen to the radio, didn’t I?”

 

“Yeah,” Donghun admits with a weak shrug of his shoulders, “but I turned it off halfway.”

 

“So you didn’t hear anything after the song?”

 

“I barely even heard the first verse.” He laughs when he says it, but Yuchan doesn’t seem too amused.

 

“Why not?” Yuchan’s knuckles are white with how hard he’s grabbing onto his arms. Donghun doesn’t think he’s ever seen him go this long without smiling at least once. “I told you, explicitly, to listen to it. Didn’t you like the song? What’s even your problem?”

 

So this is where he has to reveal how pathetic he is, huh?

 

“I…”, he starts, carefully, “I just…” He sighs. Takes a breath. Tries again. “I get I’m supposed to be happy and supportive. And I am, but I just… it’s hard, you know? Hearing him declare his feelings for someone like this. I didn’t know what to do.”

 

“So you didn’t know who it was for?”, Yuchan asks. 

 

Donghun nods.

 

“Cool. That doesn’t matter at all,” is what Yuchan tells him, spine straight and face set. “That isn’t even in the general area of mattering? Holy shit, Donghun,” and his voice rises in pitch again, “so you hear your friend confess and your first instinct is to feel sorry for yourself? You’re not even going to message him? Check up on him? Anything? No, let’s throw Mister Lee Donghun a pity party because suddenly he decides he wants something! You had well over a year, dude, and you decided not to say anything, so you don’t get to mope about who he may or may not confess to!” Yuchan is properly yelling now, hand fisted in his own hair, frustration seeping through the edges and cracks of his being and Donghun feels… abysmal. Horrible. Sick to his stomach.

This is Yuchan, their youngest, the one they always baby. The one who he’d comforted when the stress of being in a foreign city away from his parents made him break down. The happy one, the one who wants to keep the peace when the others are cranky at each other.

 

He’s their sunshine, and Donghun has reduced him to this: yelling himself hoarse, anger-stained cheeks, tears tickling the corners of his eyes. And for what?

 

“Listen, I just-”

 

“No,  _ you _ listen for  _ once _ in your life - do you even know what he did for you? He spent so much of his money when frankly, you probably use that amount to wipe your ass all day! And sure, he didn’t have to, but then he sat his ass down and wrote a whole goddamn song and waited on your sorry self for six hours in the fucking snow while you just  _ languished _ in your bedsheets like oh boo hoo Junhee doesn’t love me what shall I ever do! I guess I’ll just ignore every single one of my friends for weeks! God, Donghun, I sure fucking hope you have a way to make this right again because frankly, I don’t need to see you until you sort your shit out.”

 

Yuchan turns on his heel, opens the door to the studio and slams it shut with enough force to rattle the floor. Inside, Rayoon jumps in his seat and their dog begins barking, and outside, Donghun is left alone with his head.

 

All he knows is that Yuchan has a point. Or multiple. He ignored Junhee and that’s why he’s in this mess in the first place.

 

There’s a voice in him telling him he should be happy, because Junhee did this for him, and that means he likes him, probably - no, not probably, definitely, that’s the only thing that makes sense. But he squashes it down, ignores the spark of airy happiness, because he shouldn’t be happy right now. He should be figuring out how to make this right.

 

And where to get help to make that happen.

 

*

 

‘ _ Youd better not fuck up this time. _ ’, Sehyoon texts him. It’s New Year’s Eve, and instead of being with his friends, Donghun is freezing despite his best efforts to dress appropriately. He hears the crowds nearby, talking and laughing and preparing for the firework show at midnight, but he’s stuck in an empty pagoda in an empty park in the middle of the night. There’s fairy lights strung up, winding their way around the pillars and across the circumference of the roof, but they don’t do too much for being able to see well with their weak purple glow.

 

‘ _ I won’t, jeez _ ,’ Donghun keys in, at the same time another message bubble pops up: ‘ _ Hes on his way now, get your explanation muscles ready. _ ’

 

Sehyoon is so weird. Nonetheless, he’s the only one willing to help, and Donghun is thankful.

 

It takes Junhee a while, which isn’t honestly that bad. It gives him time to breathe in the winter air and the promise of more snow yet to come, stretch his legs, and properly figure out what he wants to say. But at some point, someone does end up approaching the pagoda, stomping through the frozen sheet of snow like only a person frustrated with the shortness of their legs can achieve - nevermind that Donghun himself is only marginally taller. He is taller and that’s all that matters.

 

But he should focus now. As Junhee raises his head and sees Donghun standing on the steps leading up to the building, shifting from foot to foot, he stills. The crunching snow goes quiet and for a while, this is all there is: Junhee, hands in his coat pockets, looking up at Donghun, black clothes in such a stark contrast to the white enveloping them. Donghun gazes back, brushes a strand of hair out of his own eyes, and waits for something to happen. Even the chatter of the crowd a ways away seems to quieten down.

 

Then Junhee clears his throat.

 

“Well,” he says, “you’re not Sehyoon.”

 

“No, I’m not,” Donghun confirms.

 

They’re silent for a while.

 

“Give me a reason to not walk away right now.” Donghun knows it’s a threat, an ultimatum, but there’s just the tiniest whine in Junhee’s voice, so he hopes it’s a question insead. A way to take the first step.

 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Donghun tells him, and motions towards the benches set up under the roof of the little building, overseeing the park and the lake on its tiny hill. Junhee exhales, a wall of mist obscuring his face and fogging his glasses for just a second, and then he nods.

 

Donghun hasn’t felt lighter in weeks.

 

Junhee walks the few steps up to him but takes care to not touch him as he picks out a bench, facing the direction of the people awaiting the fireworks, and clears his throat.

 

“Well,” he says. “You can talk, if you want.”

 

Donghun nods, rubs his palms on his outer thighs and sits next to him - further apart than they’d ever sat since their first month of knowing each other, but it’s progress, for now. “Right. I wanted to explain, mostly. Why I wasn’t there.”

 

Junhee laughs - it sounds starkly wounded, and sardonic in a way he’s only been so rarely that Donghun can barely remember what it sounds like. It’s not pleasant, and it doesn’t feel pleasant either, and he’d rather not hear it again.

 

“You know, if you want to let me down gently, the time has pretty much passed. I’m not even really mad at - well, no, I am mad at you, but it’s fine. I’m a big boy and I can get over it.” He hasn’t even made eye contact with him once. Somehow, this scene is going all off kilter.

 

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, you know?”

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“Really.” Donghun heaves a sigh. The paper of the envelope crinkles where he’d shoved it in his pocket. “Look. I’ll admit I was a little dumb. I didn’t expect any of this, so I guess I needed things spelled out for me, and… which is not an excuse for being an ass, I know,” he adds when Junhee raises an eyebrow at the ground. “Thing is, I didn’t listen to the whole song. I didn’t hear you were waiting for the person you’d been giving gifts to, and I ended up ignoring everyone texting me because I was dumb. I’m sorry.”

 

Junhee hums. “So you didn’t know I was waiting.”

 

“I could have known,” Donghun shrugs, “but I was too in my head.”

 

Junhee nods. Plays with his fingers. Raises his head to look at Donghun properly for the first time since they’d sat down.

 

“If you had known, would you have come?”, he asks. The question lingers, heavy on Junhee’s tongue as it is on Donghun’s heart. This is it: this is the moment he’s here for.

 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah. I would have.”

 

Junhee turns his gaze back to his hands as Donghun fumbles around in his pocket and pulls out the envelope. It’s a little wrinkled, but in good enough shape to be recognized for what it is: an envelope much the same as the one that got stuck in the story of Frodo and Sam, cream with a little golden bow in one corner. He’d even taken the time to write Junhee’s name on it in the most careful handwriting he could muster, even though that’s obviously kind of unnecessary at this point.

 

“Here,” he says and extends his hand. Junhee takes the envelope gingerly, turns it around a few times, then raises his eyes to Donghun.

 

“This isn’t the rest of our concert tickets, right?”

 

“Do you think I’m that mean?”

 

Junhee shrugs, and he is struck with the sudden urge to hunch his shoulders. “Right, point taken,” he says, “but still, open it.”

 

Junhee’s throat bobs as he feels out the edges of the envelope, then slowly, carefully slides a fingernail under the adhesive to open it, like he’s afraid of the contents. And Donghun would not blame him if he was.

 

It’s quiet aside from the rustling of the envelope until Junhee pulls out two little pieces of paper. He turns them around, rotates them, holds them up to his face to read it, and -

 

Donghun can practically hear his breath hitch.

 

“Hun, are those… is this real?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“These are tickets to Grease.”

 

“Yes,” Donghun confirms.

 

“On Broadway.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“I’ve never- how did you even  _ get _ these?”

 

“Determination, mainly?” Donghun shrugs. “Listen, Junhee. I know the last time we went to see something together, it probably didn’t quite end the way both of us imagined. So, I figured, we could repeat it, but with something you’re interested in this time. And, if you want, we could…” He pauses. “We could make it an actual date this time.”

 

Junhee doesn’t say anything for a while, and the biting feeling of insecurity is back. “Or, you know, we could-”

 

“No, no, don’t you dare backpedal again, it didn’t work out well for us the first time,” Junhee tells him. His voice sounds a little strangled - he should probably give him a moment to think about all this properly.

 

It takes Junhee about ten seconds to think about it.

 

“So. You want to fly god knows how many miles just so I can be a nerd about the original cast of the Grease reboot.”

 

“Pretty much, yeah.”

 

“Because…?”

 

“Are you fishing for something?”, Donghun asks. There’s a smile tugging on the corners of Junhee’s mouth.

 

“Maybe I am,” he confirms. “So? Because?”

 

Donghun contemplates not giving in, but… oh, who is he kidding. This is Junhee. Of course he’ll give in.

 

“Because I like you and I want to date you properly,” he says.

 

He’s never been so happy to have Junhee look at him before.

 

“Oh,” Junhee breathes, and then breaks out in the most brilliant smile, tickets clutched to his chest, teeth caught on the swell of his bottom lip. Donghun’s heart stutters in a way that is both incredibly familiar and fascinatingly new by now; he’s never felt this feeling with the knowledge that it is welcome, that it is reciprocated.

 

“Come here,” Donghun says, and lifts his arm for Junhee to scoot under. Happily, Junhee rests his head on Donghun’s shoulder and looks out beyond the lake.

 

“It’d be great if the fireworks started going off when you said that,” he muses, eyes trained on the sky. “For some effect, you know. Lee Donghun, rocking the entire world since the day he was born.”

 

“You’re so dramatic,” Donghun grumbles, but he can’t help but smile at the thought, and at Junhee in general. Of course he’s dramatic - it’s what Donghun likes.

 

And a few minutes later, when Junhee gets his wish and the sky lights up in purple, then in blues and greens and gold, and when the people across the lake are cheering, Donghun simply rests his cheek against Junhee’s hair and takes in the view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we have it folks (if only i'd spent this amount of effort on the superhero au)


End file.
